


untitled

by Hoovahhoopah



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoovahhoopah/pseuds/Hoovahhoopah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Until it’s not. Until it brings red and fear and Mother and Emma and Pan. Until it comes at the cost of her, at the cost of him. At the cost of belonging to each other. Until she is his, and he is not hers. Because she will always belong to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

> I started this forevahhh ago. And then it turned into a post-ep for 3x11. I fixed it up and reposted it because Dee told me to. And apparently I have no independent thought. So I do what Dee says. Enjoy. Please don't poop on it. I am but a fragile soul.

He is hers and she is his. Sometimes she thinks he has always been hers, from the moment he was born, and will be hers until the world is no more. He is soft and warm and the light in the dark, in the grey, in the looming fog.

 

He is blue. Blue like the pale, pale blanket he was wrapped in when he was placed in her trembling arms. Blue like a peaceful waves and a summer sky.

 

He is red, redder than a blazing fire, red like her mother’s lips. Red like anger. Anger that burns and twists and hurts. He hurts like nothing has ever hurt before. And what’s more is that she welcomes it. She cradles it with her arms, with her soul, with her heart, and she prays to a god she knows doesn’t exist to keep him whole. To keep him hers. To keep him unharmed. To please, please, keep this treasure safe, to save him, because he saved her. Because without him, she would never know this fullness, this love.

 

He is small and big all at once. And when he smiles, there is nothing else. She feels it in her chest every time and his happiness is her joy.

 

Until it’s not. Until it brings red and fear and Mother and Emma and Pan. Until it comes at the cost of her, at the cost of him. At the cost of belonging to each other. Until she is his, and he is not hers. Because she will always belong to him.

 

He is still the light in the dark. But he carries shadows with him too. Shadows that stretch and pull and push and hurt. Shadows that scream _I don’t love you._ Shadows of Cora and _I will never be enough._

 

He has always been hers, from the moment he was born. But he was Emma’s first and he is Emma’s now. Emma is his light in the dark, the sun after the storm. And he is Emma’s reason, as she is his.

 

And Regina, Regina is alone.

 

He is red. Red like her mother’s lips. And there is no other way. No other way, because Mother is here. Mother is here with her words like icy steel and lips like her son’s anger. And the air tastes like fear. Stale fear and fresh fear and fear that runs like a river of blood through a quiet little town. Nothing is safe, nothing is warm, nothing is blue and nothing is full.

 

He is gone and Mother is here. Mother is here with her voice like honey, with brittle promises wrapped in molasses words. But this love tastes like fear, this love feels like bony fingers around her throat.

 

She is not his. As she stands at the chain-link fence of the schoolyard. She is the stark white of desperation, the crimson of yearning, and the red red red of her mother’s lips. And when he glares at her, glares like red and angry and _how could you_ , she disappears in a purple cloud of smoke. Purple like loneliness.

 

He is light. Her light. Until he remembers. Until he is shadow and sadness and no. Until he is red and no. He is cold and dark and he is not hers. But she is his.

 

She is red. Red like her mothers lips. Red like her own. Red like the blood of a traitor. Red like The Savior when she is caught. Red like Mother when she is caught. Red like claws at her throat. Red like gasping for air when there is none. Red like Emma’s heart in Mother’s hands. Red, red, red, and screams like uncertainty and sadness and the end. Red like two hearts, two hearts beating as one, held in the palms of Mother’s hands. Red like _no_ and _please, not her_ , and _I’ll be good_. And Regina, Regina belongs to Mother.

 

Everything is black. Like a starless sky. Like nothingness. And Regina, Regina belongs to no one. Because Mother is gone. Because Henry is gone. 

 

He is the fading grey of the morning mist. He is untouchable and oh so close. He prickles her skin and when he smiles (not at her) she feels herself break into halves. Because he is red and he is blue and he is light and he is dark.

 

Until he is dark and Emma is light. And the skies are starless and cold. And there is nothing but churning water and loneliness that washes over her in the darkest of blues. Emma is light and golden and pure. Like nothing Regina has ever known. And the weight of her hand atop Regina’s shoulder grounds her and makes her want to fly away all at once. Because she hears _no_ and _motherpleasestopi’llbegood_ and _iloveyou_ and her eyes close without her telling them to and everything is red like a memory, like a warning. When they open again, she sees green and softness and Emma. Emma, darkened by shadows and the Neverland sky. Emma Emma Emma.

 

Neverland is dark and dank and humid and cold all at once. Pan sends chills down Regina’s spine and everything is tinged with green and grey. She catches Emma’s hand every so often, golden and warm and she can see sunlight when she closes her eyes. But there is no sunlight in Neverland, only night. Night that stretches for miles and miles, and the stars are dull and fade into the pitch black sky.

 

Sometimes when Regina closes her eyes, she pretends she belongs to Emma. Emma, sleeping ten feet away. Emma with her golden light and her green eyes like softness and promises and _yes_. And when Emma kisses her in the middle of an excellently worded insult, Regina sees warm orchid purple and red red red like desire and roses and Christmas velvet.

 

But they are here for blue and light and red. They are here for their golden child full of promise and light. And when Regina sleeps at night, she dreams of wild blonde hair and matching sets of summer green eyes and two impish smiles. And she sees red like love.

 

Pan is green. A sickly green that twists and curls around Regina, acrid and suffocating. It makes her retch for days and days. Emma too. And for a while, Regina stops looking into soft green eyes because promises are meant to be broken.

 

And when Henry is in her arms again, he is an angel that has seen the dark. Stark white and _Mommy_ and blue like sadness and an ocean of loss. And something inside her golden Emma breaks. Because Emma sees red. Red like Mother’s lips. Red like the hearts of Lost Boys. Red like not good enough. Red like a promise kept. Red like Pan’s blood and black like his heart.

 

Their boy is light and dark. Light like smiles and sunshine and pure. Dark like starless skies and _not a hero_. Dark like churning waves and magic hearts. Dark like _Mommy_ and _please_ and _no._ But he is hers and she is his. And on good days, Emma is theirs like they are Emma’s. Because Henry is as golden as his mother with green eyes like promises and _yes_.

 

Until more _no_ and Pan and acrid green and retching that starts from the bottom up. Retching that won’t stop because she can feel it in her bones. Because this feels worse than starless skies and _no_ and _idon’tloveyou._ This is _The One I Love Most_.

 

Because even soft green golden promises must be broken. Because Regina, Regina belongs to no one.

 

Emma is green and soft and _yes_ and golden and her eyes hold promises that are deep burgundy like comfort and _yes, more_. And when Regina holds Emma’s shaking hand in hers, beneath sadness like churning waves and purple like summer sunsets, there is red. Red red red. Red like Mother’s lips. Red like Emma’s heart. Red like Regina’s heart, beating in the palm of Emma’s hand. Red like the blood of a traitor. Red like _please_ and red like _no._ Red like loneliness and red like _stay_.

 

And Henry. Her sweet golden boy. With eyes like green golden promises and wildflower love. He is blue. Blue like summer skies and baby bottles and warmth. Blue like baby boy and _my son_ and belonging. Blue like happiness and happy endings and all of the things Regina stopped believing in long ago. He is the first rays of light as the dawn breaks, and the sweetness of summer air and lilac trees. He is small and he is big all at once. And when he smiles, there is nothing else. But when he cries, he is blue like despair, red like heartbreak, and grey like empty space. When he cries, everything breaks. Because he is yellow like desperation, yellow like _mommy_. Yellow like _please don’t forget me. Don’t forget to love me._

 

Regina is purple like a promise. The promise. And Emma’s eyes are green like summer and sweet promises and _yes._ But they are glassy like winter and breaking and _no_. Emma is golden and light but she is the grey of summer rain, of Neverland skies. And her lip trembles and her face crumbles and Regina sees red red red. And no no no. And Regina is purple like a promise. Like _I will find you._ Like _I will never forget._ Purple like a curse, a curse that remembers.

 

So everything splinters and breaks and who knew heartbreak was garishly yellow, yellow like Emma’s deathtrap bug. Yellow like Emma’s hair. Yellow like the fucking Yellow Brick Road, leading everyone away. Yellow and golden like memories, pushed through a purple curse like a lifeline, like a desperate plea of _please don’t forget_ , of _please don’t hurt_. Of _please don’t hurt me_. Of _I will love you always_.

 

She is red. Red like mother’s lips. Red like betrayal. Red like regret. Red like Christmas velvet and red like roses. Red like _yes_ and red like _no._ She is red like the hearts of her enemies and red like the hearts of her loves. She is red like _I will love you always_ and she is red like keening sadness and red like _never forget_. She is red like golden green promises and soft soft soft. She is red like passion and red like fire. She is red like _I will find you_ and red like _please_. Red like the blood of a traitor and red like loyalty. Red like _please please please._ And red red red like the gown a queen. Maybe red like forgiveness too.


End file.
